Pagan Siege (Tribes of Britain Book 5)

by Sam Taw

  Ren struck some threatening poses for a few moments but Nectan wouldn’t be swayed. He was wise to use his solution as leverage. I had to admire that in him if nothing else. When no amount of cajoling would loosen his lips, we marched him back downstream to the beach.

  Nectan slowed to a crawl when we reached the smouldering huts near the river mouth, taking in the devastation as he tiptoed through the ruins. He looked positively queasy after we passed the stretch of warriors tending to their burns and wounds. Senara was changing the wrappings on Kewri’s back. The taut flesh and pus-filled blisters look set to burst at any moment. By all rights, I should have left Ren to take Nectan to our Chief and resumed my healing duties, but I was shamefully curious. How could this Alchemist resolve a situation as precarious as ours?

  I dropped my kit bag containing the mullein and other herbs next to Senara and muttered that I would return shortly. Tallack was further along the beach, gazing absently at the horizon. Our captive raised his hands when we approached, more as a gesture of politeness than submission. Tallack was jolted from his reverie, hopping to his feet in short order.

  “Who’s this?” My nephew growled, his hand straying to the hilt of his sword.

  “Calls himself, Nectan.” Ren said, dumping the bag of clinking tin onto the sand. “We caught him in the valley upstream. Reckons he has a way to break the siege.”

  “Is that so?” Tallack did not seem convinced. Just as Ren had done, our Chief encircled the prisoner looking for evidence of trickery. Massen and a few other Sea Warriors crowded around, each of them snarling and preparing to strike Nectan down at the Chief’s command. I’m not sure why, but I expected this Alchemist to be squirming with anxiety for his own safety. Instead, he watched with calm assurance while Tallack did his best to intimidate, puffing out his chest and flexing his muscles. The Alchemist’s knowledge must have been worth a ransom to be so cool in the face of such hostility.

  “Well? Speak, you kyjyan traitor, or we’ll beat it out of you.” Tallack was not master of his emotions. It was hardly surprising given all that had happened over the past few days. Here was a chance to repay Kenver’s malice following the brutal torture of a beloved crewman. As much as I understood my nephew’s need to assert his dominance, I couldn’t let him squander our chance of resolution. His anger was too close to the surface for a reasonable negotiation.

  Biting my lip, I edged forwards. “Chief Tallack, if I may?”

  He spun on his heels in the sand and glowered at me. “Not now, Aunt Mel.”

  “But Nectan is offering us a way out of this mess. There’s no need to threaten…”

  “I said, not now!” His snarl was filled with such spite, I was shocked mute. His temper frightened me. Covering my mouth with my hand, I stepped backwards into the crowd of warriors. Emotions bubbled to the surface and would not be quelled. With his attention turned once again to Nectan, the young Chief moved in so close their noses almost touched. “You had better tell me all that you know, or by the gods, I’ll skin every inch of you, just like you did my crewman.”

  “Ah, well, yes. That was a bad business all round. Many of our elders tried to stop him, but Kenver is a law unto himself. Poor lad was no more than a boy.” Nectan bobbed his head about apologetically, but it only served to rile Tallack all the more.

  He grabbed the prisoner by the neck and began to squeeze until the vessels in Nectan’s face pulsed in great blue lines. Gobs of spittle flew from his mouth as the Chief’s grip tightened. Tallack had chided me once already, I dared not interfere again.

  Ren stepped closer to my nephew and rested his hand on his arm. “Chief, we need him alive.” It was almost a whisper. For a single moment, Tallack increased the pressure, directing his rage into the man’s throat, but even he could see that Ren was right. Nectan was our only hope to regain control over the mines.

  As soon as Tallack let go, Nectan inhaled a vast gulp of air before doubling over and coughing up the contents of his lungs. With watering eyes and a bruised neck, he took a while to regain his strength. When at last he was able to speak, Nectan held up his palm. “I am not your enemy. I asked Fur Benyn to bring me here so that we could help each other end this situation. Many of us Alchemists are of the same mind. Kenver is not fit to lead our clan.”

  Tallack sneered and folded his arms across his chest. “So that’s it. You want the leadership for yourself. You’re willing to turn on Kenver in exchange for power over the clan. Why would I trust someone like that to oversee my mines?”

  Nectan straightened up until he could look Tallack directly in the eye. “You really don’t know him, do you? He’s not the agreeable friend that he pretends to be. Oh, he can charm Fur Benyn and the ladies of the Chief, but down in those tunnels, he turns into a demon from the Underworld.” He spat on the ground as though speaking of his leader put a foul taste on his tongue. “Your rule about keeping the young ones above ground?” His finger shot up, pointing at Tallack. “Ignored. I’ve seen him shove antler picks into the hands of children who’ve seen fewer than five summers. He sends them down tunnels from sun up till sun down. Some were kin of mine.” Nectan’s lip curled at one side. “The only ones to be spared were his own. The man is pure evil.”

  It was the Alchemist’s turn to pant with fury. A blue vein in his forehead pulsed. “Frankly, I don’t care whether you give me leadership in return for my help, just as long as you end Kenver’s tyranny over my people.” The two men stared at each other for a long time, Nectan still breathing noisily while Tallack’s temper cooled. After all the posturing, I hoped to Cernonnus that whatever Nectan knew would prove useful.

  Tallack raised his hand to his chin and stroked his whiskers. “Let’s hear what you have to say. I’ll decide what to do with you later.”

  Nectan was reluctant to open up at first but since he was surrounded by menacing warriors, he had little choice but to divulge all that he knew. The Chief and the most senior of his men stood together at the shore line as Nectan dug a stick into the wet sand and sketched the valley, its neighbouring gorge, and all the interconnected tunnels between them. The map was far more comprehensive than my early attempts.

  When my nephew’s fury had subsided, he allowed me to join them. Nectan showed Ren and I how he managed to evade us by using the disused shafts and hidden entrances leading to the western side of the region. Within a short while, Nectan had provided all the locations for Kenver’s traps, where the lookouts were posted and which times of the day the guards swapped their duties.

  It was invaluable information, but it only served to inform us of how impossible it would be to root them out. There were simply too few of our men left to attack such a vast area. From what we could tell, every entrance was either barred or guarded with armed men. They had enough stored food to stay underground for the rest of the season or more and fresh water from three different sources.

  Tallack locked his fingers together behind his head and let out a massive sigh. We were no closer to a solution than before. For some time, the men pored over the soggy map, wearing intense frowns that served no purpose whatsoever. It did give them the appearance of contemplating our problem, even if none had the sense to find an answer.

  When the sun tipped towards the horizon, I could no longer ignore the whimpers of pain coming from the wounded further along the beach. I left the warriors, my nephew and Ren to ponder over our dilemma, grabbed a few strips of venison from Nectan’s bag and returned to my patients.

  Senara was glad of the meat when I handed her and Kewri a strip each. The poor giant was still in a bad way. He nibbled on the salted deer meat but I could tell he’d lost his appetite. Pain can sometimes do that to a man. The more it gnaws at your body, the sicker you become, until food is the last thing on your mind.

  As I made my way towards the central fire, I distributed what meat I had to the younger men. One was stacking more logs into a pile. “I need fresh boiling water to brew my herbs.” The lad nodded to those idling on the sand. I flick
ed my head around and glanced at them.

  “I’m all out.” One of the lanky ones said. He was dour and had a dripping nose. It looked to me that he’d just swilled the last sip from his water bladder down his gullet and missed. I wrinkled my nose in disgust at their selfishness and trudged back towards Ren and Tallack.

  They were still staring at the map as I approached. I held out my hand to Ren. “Can I borrow your water bladder? I’ll have to walk back to the spring in the valley to fetch more.”

  He didn’t think twice. “I’ll go. It’s quite some distance and you’re needed here.”

  Nectan pulled a face. “You know that there’s a closer spring on this side of the bay, don’t you?”

  There was a stunned moment of revelation all around us, as the Alchemist began to chuckle. “Come on, I can show you.”

  Tallack ordered two of his men to join us on the walk to the cliffs at the farthest end of the beach. Ren and I walked either side of the Alchemist, still dubious about his motives for helping us.

  “So where were you going when we caught you this morning?” I asked, scuttling to keep up.

  “Kenver’s ship is just around the headland in the next cove. A few of his men are waiting there to sail me down to the island near Land’s End.”

  Ren grimaced at him. “For what purpose?”

  “That’s where he sent all our womenfolk and children. They were told to set up the signal fires to lure the foreign ships in for trade.”

  It was just as I’d suspected. Kenver had been selling our tin and setting up his own trade partners all along. Before we could express our disgust at this latest betrayal, Nectan veered off the beach and began yomping up and over the dunes.

  “This way. It’s not as steep as climbing the cliff face.” He yelled back over his shoulder. Our warriors ran after him, worried that it was a trick to escape. I wasn’t so sure. After all that he’d told us, I was starting to trust the man. Ren lingered behind, helping me over the slippery sections of loose sand until we could scramble onto a well-worn track up to the cliff path.

  After a short but steep walk, Nectan pointed out the spot where the trickle of water ran over the rocks. The exertion of climbing made us all sweat, but the faint breeze and clean air restored us in no time. Ren filled our bladders while I splashed myself with the chilled water. It was good to wash the filth of burnt huts and sick men from my skin. More than anything I wanted to strip off and roll about in the cool stream, but there was no time to waste. I had to stew the mullein to give to those in pain.

  Ren pushed the stoppers into the necks of the bladders and cupped his hands in the spring. As he brought the sparkly water to his mouth, he stopped and looked up at Nectan. “You say that there are three water sources in the tunnels?”

  “Yeah, but one has practically dried up. I’ve never seen such a dry summer as this season in my life. Old shafts that were abandoned from previous flooding are now bone dry.” Nectan said. “Makes it much easier to travel between the valley and the gorge, I can tell you.”

  The jolly fellow had no idea why we were smiling and Ren and I were not about to tell him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  There was much to prepare and all had to be done with the utmost care and timing. Our men, and indeed our headstrong Chief, needed a lesson in stealth and there was only one person among us who excelled in that department. The problem we faced was that she was both female and a youngster herself. The men may have treated Senara as one of their own on the Long Hut benches, drinking ale and singing bawdy songs, it was quite another matter taking advice about strategy from her.

  Ren and I discussed as much as we could on our way back from the cliff side spring, quizzing Nectan over the position of the tunnels with the steepest inclines and those which housed the greatest numbers of Alchemists. By the time we were back with Tallack on the beach, Ren was able to explain his idea to the warriors in some detail by adding to the map in the sand.

  I hovered at the side of my nephew, wondering how well he would receive the plan, it having come from Ren instead of being a product of his own mind. He certainly looked pensive and fraught. Ever since his lover was skinned and left hanging in the woods to taunt him, Tallack had become broody and unapproachable. I guess that was to be expected, but I did miss the light-hearted boy he used to be. Responsibility and grief make martyrs of us all.

  The Chief listened and watched as Ren scored the sand with the stick, naming who among the men he thought suitable for each of the tasks ahead. When it came to Senara’s part in the scheme, the men blew out air over their teeth. No doubt they all thought themselves to be her equal or better, but Ren and I knew that only she had the requisite skills and without her, the entire enterprise would fail. There was a long moment of tense, nervous silence as we all eyed one another in the circle. Senara kept her sight on the Chief, despite the seething stares all around her.

  At length, Tallack looked down at the map, rubbing his forehead absently as he thought. “This will take a number of days to arrange.” He said without averting his gaze. No one spoke while we awaited his decision. Eventually, he turned to face Senara. “You really think you can do what Ren is suggesting?”

  There was not a moment of hesitation. She nodded her head with vigour. “I can, Chief.”

  “It’ll take courage and accuracy…”

  “I understand and I’m ready. I won’t let you down.” She adjusted the strap of her quiver across her chest and held her head high. There was something about this young warrior girl that defied explanation. Was it her dogged determination or her unfailing loyalty that inspired confidence? I wasn’t sure, but whatever it was, Tallack saw it too.

  The Chief smiled. “I believe you. Everyone, get to work.”

  It was like a pall of gloom had lifted from the beach. Occupation lightened the moods of all the men, even the discontented and envious ones. They glared and scowled whenever they caught sight of Senara, but the hope of victory spurred them on to work late into the night. Ren insisted that the majority of the tasks were carried out at the farthest reaches of the valley, so as not to alert any of the Alchemists hiding in the gorge about our plan.

  The horses took the brunt of the heavy lifting, dragging lumber into position. Without Kewri and our fallen men, everything took twice as long to accomplish. Senara chose to make her own preparations away from camp alone. I can’t say that I blame her given the importance of her part and the animosity that it stirred up with the men. I suspected that she also needed time to practice her skills. So much relied on her success.

  My duty lay with the injured. The mullein brew was not as powerful as willow bark in relieving pain and the sea weed wrapping on Kewri’s back failed to reduce the blisters on his shoulders. Once or twice, I caught him shivering despite the warmth of the day and the gentle breeze. He was hot and clammy and a faint foetid smell of rot hung about him.

  I had to avoid rupturing those blisters. The fewer open wounds about his person, the better. Either way, he really needed a hefty dose of something strong, like poppy resin. How I wished that my kit bag was filled with several pots of the stuff. There was no other option but to walk to the marshland, hike up my tunic and wade into the reeking mud in search of mace reed. It didn’t take long to find a patch but it had already been heavily harvested. When animals and birds are scarce, they are a rich staple among our people and many other tribes.

  All I required was enough fresh leaves to split and scrape the clear jelly into a wooden bowl. It was slow work, especially since I needed every drop of the gooey substance I could lay my hands on, but still quicker than grubbing about in the foul water to collect roots to cook and smash. My shins and calves were chilled through to the bone, while my hands toiled instinctively, skimming the ooze into the bowl with a firm scoop of my thumb. I found myself humming softly, barely noticing whenever one of our men thundered past on horseback as they sped up the valley. They were so careless. At the rate they were going, Kenver would discover our plot
long before we could finish the preparations.

  When I had collected a bowl full, I slipped and skidded out of the muck and on to drier ground carrying my precious cargo wrapped in damp leaves back to the beach. Where the jelly had coated my forefinger and thumb, I was bereft of all feeling. It was enough to reassure me that it could be of some use to my giant friend.

  After a quick rinse in the sea, I was ready to begin the job I’d been dreading. Only the wounded men and Nectan were left to keep the fires burning and our belongings guarded. Nectan pulled a face when I told him that I needed his help. For someone who’d endured day after day toiling in the mines, so close to the demons of the Underworld, he showed surprising cowardice. He shuddered and recoiled when I asked him to gather more seaweed and change the wrappings of some of our men. Maybe I was being too harsh. Not everyone can cope with the sick and injured. For me, blood, guts and pus were a daily occurrence.

  Avoiding the inevitable, I chose to apply the reed slime to Kewri’s blistered areas first, hoping that it would lessen some of his discomfort. As I smeared the taut skin of his shoulders, I examined the damage to his lower back. The stitches made in haste had not held fast. Many had torn through the brittle edges leaving sagging gaps between those that remained. Each section wept with sticky humours.

  “Bite down on this leather strap, my boy. This will hurt.” It doesn’t matter how softly you say those words, they cannot ease the pain that follows. I felt Kewri tense under my touch. His entire torso clenched as he endured the agony. Placing all five fingertips on the charred flap of flesh, I gently tested how far it could be shifted. It was the only way to determine if the tissues beneath were starting to reattach, or whether the entire area was likely to rot and would therefore need to be removed.

  His mournful grunts and murmurs almost broke my heart, but he bore the pain with the same dignity as before. There was strength in the giant yet. Satisfied that the flesh had begun to knit, I concentrated on the open sections of the join. If I could get the festering patches under control, Kewri stood a good chance of recovery.